HUNTED SHADOWS

The rogue moved with a primal ferocity, its claws slicing through the air as Joel met its attacks head-on. His dagger gleamed in the moonlight, each strike calculated and precise. Elora could only watch in terrified awe, her back pressed against the wall as the cabin seemed to shrink under the intensity of the battle.

Joel moved faster than she thought humanly possible, his reflexes sharper and more fluid than any athlete she’d ever seen. The rogue lunged, jaws snapping, but Joel sidestepped with ease, his movements almost predatory.

“Stay down!” Joel barked, his voice guttural, almost unrecognizable.

Elora obeyed, her heart hammering as the fight raged on. The rogue let out an earsplitting howl, its glowing eyes locked on Joel, but there was something wild and desperate in its movements. It wasn’t just attacking—it was trying to get to her.

With a feral growl, Joel slashed across the rogue’s chest, sending it stumbling back. The beast snarled in pain, its massive form heaving with labored breaths. But instead of retreating, it turned its gaze to Elora.

Joel intercepted, placing himself between her and the rogue. “You want her? You’ll have to go through me first.”

The rogue’s response was a low, guttural laugh—dark and mocking. “You can’t protect her forever,” it rasped, its voice grating like stones grinding together.

Before Elora could make sense of its words, Joel lunged, his blade finding its mark. The rogue let out a final, blood-curdling cry before collapsing to the floor, its body convulsing as its form began to shift. Fur receded, claws shortened, and within moments, a man lay in its place—eyes vacant, body still.

Joel stood over him, his chest rising and falling heavily. The dagger trembled in his hand as he stared down at the lifeless figure.

Elora’s voice was barely a whisper. “Is it…dead?”

“Yes,” Joel said, his tone flat. He wiped the blade on his sleeve before sliding it back into its sheath. “But this won’t be the last.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice trembling.

Joel turned to her, his expression grim. “Rogues don’t act alone. If one was sent after you, there will be more. We need to leave. Now.”

Elora nodded, though her legs felt like jelly. She pushed herself to her feet, clutching the back of a chair for support. “Where do we go?”

“To the elder,” Joel said. “He’s the only one who might know what’s happening and why they’re after you.”

Joel moved quickly, gathering supplies from the cabin—a small bag, a water bottle, and a map that he tucked into his jacket. Elora followed his movements, her mind racing.

“What did it mean?” she asked suddenly.

Joel glanced at her. “What?”

“What it said—‘You can’t protect her forever.’ What did it mean by that?”

Joel hesitated, his jaw tightening. “It means they know you’re important. And they won’t stop until they get you.”

Elora’s stomach twisted. She wanted to argue, to demand more answers, but Joel’s urgency kept her silent.

They stepped out into the night, the cold air biting at her skin. The forest was eerily quiet, as though holding its breath. Joel scanned the area, his hand resting on the hilt of his dagger.

“This way,” he said, leading her down a narrow path.

They moved quickly, the underbrush crunching beneath their feet. Joel’s pace was relentless, and Elora struggled to keep up, her heart pounding with every step.

“Joel,” she said breathlessly, “how far is this elder?”

“Far enough that we won’t make it tonight,” he replied. “We’ll need to find a safe place to rest before dawn.”

A sudden rustling sound froze them both in their tracks. Joel held up a hand, signaling her to stay still. His sharp eyes scanned the darkness, every muscle in his body tense.

“What is it?” Elora whispered.

“Quiet,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

The rustling grew louder, and then a shadow emerged from the trees. Elora’s breath caught as she saw another wolf—this one smaller than the rogue but just as menacing.

Joel reached for his dagger, but before he could act, the wolf shifted. Its form melted away, replaced by a wiry man with piercing green eyes.

“You’ve made quite the mess,” the man said, his voice smooth and taunting. “The whole forest knows you’re here now.”

Joel didn’t lower his weapon. “We’re just passing through. Stay out of our way.”

The man chuckled, his gaze flicking to Elora. “And who’s this? She smells…different.”

Elora’s blood ran cold.

“Leave her out of this,” Joel growled, stepping in front of her.

The man raised his hands in mock surrender. “Relax. I’m not here to fight. In fact, I might be able to help.”

Joel’s eyes narrowed. “Why would you help us?”

The man smirked. “Let’s just say I’m not a fan of the rogues either. But help comes at a price.”

Elora looked at Joel, uncertainty knotting her stomach. She didn’t trust this stranger, but they were running out of options.

“Fine,” Joel said reluctantly. “What do you want?”

The man’s smile widened. “Oh, nothing much. Just a favor—for when the time comes.”

Joel’s grip on his dagger tightened, but he nodded. “Deal. Now, what do you know?”

The man’s eyes gleamed. “More than you’re ready for. But I’ll start with this—your little friend here isn’t what she seems. And if you don’t figure out why soon, the rogues will be the least of your problems.”

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